


It's not the destination

by keysburg



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 0-8-4s, Camping, Fluff, Gen, I Blame Tumblr, REPTILES, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Utah - Freeform, all cap story, bucky barnes is a troublemaker, bucky pov, diners and deserts, i like the desert though, i'm still traumatized from living in utah, inspired by real life events, steve rogers has a sweet tooth, there's a vague attempt at plot, time period is in the vague but happy future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:25:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4727534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keysburg/pseuds/keysburg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by these photos, the Cap boys go to the desert...</p><p>“As long as you don’t make me dance around the campfire naked, dude, we’re cool,” Sam said.  Steve made a confused sound. “In the 90s, that was a big thing… men going out into the woods for a weekend to ‘rediscover their manhood’ and somehow it always required dancing naked.  White dudes co-opting native culture again.” </p><p>“And why did they have to be naked?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inspiration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photos are from this post: http://babbleon.tumblr.com/post/81905121270/someone-should-write-a-story-based-on-these

 


	2. Prologue

Bucky was eavesdropping.

“Are you sure this is the best course of action, Captain?” 

“Yes, Sam, I think we all need this. Besides, there’s an 0-8-4 out there somewhere and someone needs to find it.” Sam and Steve were in the loading dock, going through piles of gear and checking it against a checklist. 

“I’m pretty sure some regular agents could handle it, man. No reason for two Avengers and one severely traumatized former Hydra assassin to go march across the desert for weeks at a time.” Bucky heard the smirk in Steve’s voice as he dug through a pack. 

“You were the one who sent me that article about veterans with PTSD and the outdoors, Sam. Besides, summer is coming and I’m ready to get out of the city for awhile.”

“I don’t know, it just seems like we’re running away from something,” Sam said, sounding hesitant.

“Sometimes it’s just nice to get away. Bucky is making the new recruits pretty nervous but it’s hard to tell how much of that is him and how much is the fact that we’ve been training almost non-stop for months. They need a break, and it’ll be nice to have some time, just us guys, outside.”

“As long as you don’t make me dance around the campfire naked, dude, we’re cool,” Sam said. Steve made a confused sound. “In the 90s, that was a big thing… men going out into the woods for a weekend to ‘rediscover their manhood’ and somehow it always required dancing naked. White dudes co-opting native culture again.” 

“And why did they have to be naked?”

“I don’t know, man. Something about getting back to essentials. It wasn’t something I ever paid that much attention to, but it was a running joke for awhile,” Sam said. 

“But how did men in the 90s lose their manhood, exactly? Was that a euphemism for questioning one’s sexuality?” Sam groaned. 

Bucky backed away from the doorway to the loading dock where he had been lurking. The Avengers training facility was nice but he hadn’t been out of it in months, and certainly not out on a mission, even a simple search-and-seize. He wasn’t thrilled to be going with Sam, who had a bad habit of tag teaming him with Steve, trying to get him to talk. Trauma recovery, they called it. Sam said it got easier if you talked about it instead of repressing it. But Bucky wasn’t repressing it... he just wasn’t sure what it had to with him. He had followed orders. Yeah, it was Hydra giving the orders, but they had the means to make sure he complied. And now, with most of his memories back, he was ready to follow Steve’s orders. He’d rather move forward than wallow in the past, much of which was still foggy in his memory.


	3. ONE

The next day they caught a military flight to Hill Air Force Base just north of Salt Lake City. Nellis would have been closer to the site, although Steve claimed they’d have to wait a couple more days for a direct flight to Nellis. In Salt Lake, Steve made a slight detour, dragging them into a building lit with red and yellow neon. 

 

“What’s a Crown Burger?” Bucky asked quietly, as they followed Steve from the 4-door rental truck.

“Just the greatest burger ever,” Steve said. “It’s a burger with pastrami on top. It’s like a Jewish deli had a baby with an American burger joint, and it’s amazing. Make sure you get fries to go with the fry sauce.”

“What the hell is fry sauce?” Sam demanded, only to be met with a wink from Steve.

Fry sauce was apparently some unholy marriage of mayonnaise and ketchup. It tasted great on the fries. Sam refused to try it, and the burgers, on general principle. He groused a little about not having the metabolism of a 90 year old science project and got a salad with chicken, dressing on the side. Steve had a chili dog with his burger and fries, and Bucky got a corn dog with his burger. The corn dog wasn’t as good as the ones he remembered from Coney Island, but the burger was amazing. While they ate, Steve told them how Clint had dragged him to a Crown Burger when some mission or another had them driving through SLC. Interestingly, no one paid any attention to Steve Rogers in the restaurant, despite the fact that he usually got some admirers wherever he went. 

Outside in the parking lot, Bucky began to understand why no one paid Steve Rogers, Captain fucking America, any attention whatsoever. Salt Lake City had a lot of similarly clean cut young men, moving briskly through their day. Sam noticed too, and his body language got a little tight, like he was expecting trouble.

“What kind of Camazotz place did you drag us to, man?” Sam asked, as Steve started the truck. 

“What is Camazotz?” Steve asked, pulling onto the wide boulevard. 

“Remind me to buy you some Madeleine L’Engle.” Sam grumbled. “What’s with all the clean cut white dudes who look the same?” Steve looked around and shrugged.

“We’re downtown, near the Temple. The devout Latter Day Saints and those who work for the church always dress like that; there’s a strict dress code for both men and women. Salt Lake actually has more diversity than you’d expect, owing to the LDS church bringing so many refugees in… but they are more on the edges of the valley. If we come home this way, there’s a pretty decent Korean place we can hit up.”

“We’ve got Mormons at home. The missionaries come around door-to-door, like the Witnesses and such,” Sam said. “I just never thought what a whole city of them together might look like.”

“Every group is more intimidating in uniform,” Bucky said, earning him a surprised look from Sam and a slow nod from Steve. 

They got on the highway and drove south, the city giving way to grassy rolling hills and then more dry vegetation. It took a few hours, but they stopped in Cedar City for firewood, food and ice from a Harmon’s grocery and then headed out of civilization. The land remained hilly and was mostly covered with stubby and twisted juniper trees. After miles of nothing but the little trees, they came to a small collection of houses with a gas station and a sign that said ‘Veyo, Utah’. In a small clearing among the juniper, Steve pulled into the parking lot of a little white shack with the word PIES in big red letters. 

“First burgers, now pies,” Sam grumbled. “If you wanted to eat junk all week we could have stayed in the city.” 

“C’mon now, boys. You see a little pie stand in the middle of nowhere, you gotta stop,” Steve was smiling as he climbed out of the truck. “No one get any cream pies though; they won’t keep well.

Sam gave in this time and picked out a peach-blueberry pie. Bucky went with strawberry-rhubarb, and it looked like Sam wanted to laugh when Steve picked out an apple pie. The pies went in one of three large coolers in the back of the truck and they got back on the road. 

Dusk was starting to brush the sky as one dirt road gave way to another when Steve finally pulled off the road and indicated a sandy patch that would be their campsite.

“Why not over there, in that flat spot?” Bucky asked, pointing uphill from where they were. 

“Don’t bust the crust,” replied Steve. “That dark color is indicative of a cyanobacteria enriched soil crust. It looks flat but will be hard to sleep on and we’d destroy it. It protects the land from soil erosion and hosts a thriving microbial community. We’ll probably be busting enough crust in our search patterns in the coming weeks; try and avoid it here.” The sandy patch Steve picked out would be softer to sleep on, but they’d probably all be waking up with grit in their teeth the entire time they were out here. Bucky took a deep breath. 

“It smells damp,” he observed. “River near here?” 

“About 500 meters east of here. It’s just a small stream right now, thanks to water agreements,” Steve confirmed. “We’re in the floodplain, hence the sand. Let’s get camp set up.”

It didn’t take long with each of them pitching their own tents and then unloading the bulk of supplies. Bucky hiked down towards the river, looking for stones rounded by the flow of water, and brought back a few armfuls. Steve arranged them into a ring and then built a fire within. 

The flames started to lick skyward as it started getting really dark. Steve broke out fried chicken and corn bread from the grocery store, plus broccoli salad for Sam, and they finished it off with pie. 

“Okay, that pie is amazing,” Sam said. “But I still don’t understand why there was a pie stand in a little two-bit town in the middle of nowhere.”

“We’re still in Utah,” Steve said. “Clint said that most LDS aren’t allowed much in the way of vice: no coffee, no alcohol. So they make up for it with obscene amounts of sugar.” Sam shook his head.

“I’m not sure which vice is worse for you, but now I understand why we had to pack the scotch instead of buying some with the other provisions,” Sam said. 

“That, and beer takes up too much room in the cooler,” said Steve. “Liquor is always more efficient for field ops. But we’d better save it; I’m not sure how long we’re going to be out here. Speaking of which, I think it’s time for bed, guys. We have a big task ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crown Burger is awesome! http://www.crown-burgers.com/ I can't vouch for the corn dogs since I'm not a 90 year old science experiment who eats double what normal people do. Fry sauce is unnecessary but delicious. 
> 
> Harmon's is the best grocery chain in Utah: https://www.harmonsgrocery.com/
> 
> If you find yourself in Veyo, Utah, make sure to get pie. Captain America says so. http://veyopies.com/
> 
> Don't bust the crust: http://www.moabbikepatrol.com/soils.htm


	4. TWO

Bucky had been right about the sand. When he woke in the morning, it was to the sound of birds, grit in his teeth, and just a little sweat in the cocoon of his sleeping bag. The night had been cool but the air was already warming under the sun. At least baby wipes made for more convenient clean ups than damp rags had. He pulled on his clothes: a lightweight longsleeve shirt in a pale tan color, desert camo patterned lightweight cotton pants, sturdy hiking boots. It was different than his usual uniform, that was for sure. 

He set water to boil before going off to brush the sand out of his teeth, and by the time he returned, Steve was pouring it into a French press. For breakfast they had hardboiled eggs (prepared the night before) with fruit, although Bucky caught Steve stealing a couple bites of his strawberry-rhubarb pie to go with his coffee. Sam made sandwiches for all of their packs while Bucky scrubbed out bowls and coffee cups. Once they had water and were ready to go, Steve laid out the assignment.

“So we’re supposed to find this 0-8-4 that crashed to Earth somewhere in this sector, but we’re not sure what it looks like,” he said, showing them the search grid on a map.

“How do we know it’s an 0-8-4 and not just a meteorite?” Sam asked.

“Something about the signature it gave off, readings that were funny but similar to past incidences, some of which produced 0-8-4s. The previous ones were vaguely spherical, the size of a soccer ball, with a variety of textures and colors, but they had a common element to them not usual in meteorites and not found on Earth. That’s all my clearance bought me for information, other than they’re also usually mildly radioactive and we’re not to touch it. If we find it, we’re to call it in.”

“There’s been more than one, but it’s still classified as an 0-8-4?” Sam looked a little troubled.

“Yeah, the science division has a few but their purpose and origin are still unknown. Don’t look so worried, Sam. They’ve had one over a year and it hasn’t hurt anything yet.” Steve said.

“If it’s radioactive, why not fly over with a Geiger counter and find it that way?” asked Bucky.

“I have one, which may help us pinpoint the item, but there’s too much background radiation in the area to find it flying at normal altitude. Like all 0-8-4 retrievals, we must avoid drawing attention to ourselves. Therefore, it was decided no low flying aircraft and no Falcon or Iron Patriot flybys. If we run into anyone, we’re supposed to tell them we’re looking for desert tortoises to tag with radio telemeters.”

“Now, we’re starting with this first grid to the northwest. We’re walking transects, which means we’ll walk roughly a body length from each other in parallel lines at the same speed. We’ll take turns pacing out the length, but once we get to the other side we turn around, spread out from where the outside person was, and walk back in the direction we came from. The grids are sized so it’s about 8 miles of walking a day, but some of the grids are more interesting, topographically speaking, than others. Keep your eyes down, looking to both sides, walk straight, and look for anything that doesn’t belong. Stay hydrated and watch out for snakes.” They put on sunblock and hats, took up their packs, and hiked a couple hundred meters west where the GPS indicated the corner of their first grid. Steve marked the corner with a wooden stake and they spread out in a line and began to walk.

They started with a companionable silence as they searched, finding a steady pace to keep their line together while looking at the ground, eyes scanning. After awhile the desert floor started to look less and less interesting, and they started talking.

“I listened to everything you gave me, Sam, but I still don’t know how you can claim the 70s are the best decade for music. The stuff I grew up with was so much livelier and easier to dance to.” Bucky snorted at this, knowing full well Steve never danced in the old days, at least not where anyone could see. 

“Are you trying to say you can’t dance to funk, Steve? Really?”

“Of course you can. But can you really compare that to big band music? Anyway, overall the old music is both faster and more cheerful. We didn’t use music as a way to dwell on all the bad things that were going on, we used it to balance it out.”

“Stick your heads in the sand, you mean. Anyway, soul and funk wasn’t about dwelling on bad things. It was about giving voice to a more diverse range of experiences, something sorely lacking in your day. The sheer increase in number of genres in the 70s proves it was a better decade for the music than the 40s were, if not the best.”

“That genre diversification is what gave us disco, Sam. Disco. A genre so criminal, I think that that alone sinks your entire argument.”

“Are you kidding me, man? You may not like disco, Steve, and many may consider it ‘criminal’ but it is just one genre among many others! You can’t discount the entire decade on one genre, not when so much other good stuff exists. The 70s had something for everyone, even people with bad taste. I’d take that over your moldy old band music anyday.”

“If big band and such is so “moldy,” how come the vast majority of Christmas music still played on an annual basis is stuff I recognize from back in the day? Our music was classic, and that’s why you can still hear it.”

“No way. Christmas music falls into a nostalgia trap. No Christmas music is ‘good’, people only like it because it reminds them of happy holidays in the past. It’s not rational and has to be left out of the discussion entirely. Christmas music may be essentially a time capsule; but it’s disqualified from this discussion.”

This went on for awhile, the sun climbing in the sky as they marched. Sam waxed on how meaningful soul was, followed by Steve extolling the virtues of the many instruments of big band with a particularly long ode to the trumpet. When Sam tired of this, he tried to drag Bucky into it.

“What about you, Bucky? You must have an opinion.”

“Well, I haven’t listened to as much as Steve has…but I think Sam’s right.” This earned him a cocky grin from Sam and a surprised look from Steve. “When you come right down to it, rock is really the very best genre of all time, and it was at its peak in the 1970s. There’s some great stuff from the 50s and 60s, but it’s rather poppy. Stray too far into the 80s and it gets more pop-like again, plus there’s all that synthesizer crap. Which means the second best decade of all time for music was the 90s.” There was a stunned silence for a bit, and then at the exact same moment Sam started yelling about how objectively bad the 90s were, while Steve started questioning the notion that rock n’ roll was the greatest genre ever, since it had so much owed to other genres. Bucky just laughed at them. 

The benefit of starting with a grid close to camp was they got done and back to camp by mid-afternoon. It was pretty warm out, but Bucky was enjoying it. His cybernetic arm felt vaguely chilly most of the time, even in otherwise comfortable temperatures. The air temperature was just warm enough now that it felt close to his body temperature. Steve wasn’t as appreciative of the weather.

“It’s pretty damn hot for March, you guys have to admit.” Sam laughed at Steve.

“Okay, Mr. Don’t-Bust-the-Crust desert-expert man. Seems pretty normal to me. You think this is bad, try waging a war in the desert.”

“Honestly, I thought those winters in Europe were pretty bad, Sam, but I think I’d take being frozen in ice again over this.” 

It took some persuading, but Bucky managed to convince Steve to crack open the scotch that night. He had to try a couple different tactics, including “What if we find the thing tomorrow?” and “Some vacation you planned here, Steve,” and “Remember the winter of ‘44 and how we would have killed to have a nice bottle like this? Are you really going to let me remember the German front more fondly than your little trip to the desert?” It got more melodramatic from there, but Steve appreciated that kind of thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transects are a common tool used to find things that may or may not be there. http://www.hawaii.edu/gk-12/opihi/classroom/measuring.pdf
> 
> Steve packed my favorite scotch: https://us.thebalvenie.com/our-range/caribbean-cask-aged-14-years


	5. THREE

Before long, the days started to blend into a pleasant monotony. Days were filled with sun and sand and the constant hiking. Nights were pleasant interludes of cooling temperatures, eating too much, and savoring vanilla and oak flavors in the scotch before falling asleep early, pleasantly exhausted. The only thing to differentiate the days were the critters they found and the discussions they had. “So that’s what a desert tortoise looks like,” Bucky said. “He’s pretty cute. Is it a he?”

 

 

 

 “Given the size, it seems likely. I’d check, but they’re listed as threatened so it’s against the law to mess with them,” Steve said, eyeing the reptile with an appraising look. Sam started laughing.

“Man, how much research did you do for this trip? Suddenly you’re an expert on telling girl tortoises from boys?” Steve flushed a little, muttering something about how the last time he was in the desert he got abducted by aliens and just wanted to enjoy the trip. Sam cut him off by continuing with what he had been saying before they discovered the tortoise. “Anyway, Bucky, stop changing the subject. You can have the powers or skills of any other Avenger, powered person, whoever: who would you choose to be?”

“I guess I would go with the Hulk,” Bucky sighed into the silence that followed that statement. He could practically hear the cranking of his companions’ brains, trying to figure out why that was his answer. “He gets size, strength, speed, and damn nigh invulnerability, making Banner essentially unkillable in that form. The only drawback is the fact that he isn’t always in control of his actions, but I’ve already got half a century’s experience dealing with the fallout of that, thanks to Hydra’s programing. At least the Hulk comes with the warning sign of being huge and green. That would be easier than having everyone constantly watching me out of the corner of their eye, trying to decide if it’s me or latent Hydra instructions driving this bus.” Another uneasy silence followed this, and Bucky tried not to cringe as he listened to the click of the Geiger counter registering background radiation and six boots tramping across the ground. Eventually he spoke up again. “Plus Banner is smart, like scary smart. I could probably avoid getting myself and you guys into a lot of scrapes if I had that kind of brainpower.”

“I’d be Natasha,” Sam declared, surprising a guffaw out of Steve.

“You just think you should be able to get your way by flirting with everyone,” Steve said, trying to reestablish some levity.

“Well, yeah, looks this good have a certain power, or would if they were always appreciated properly,” Sam said. “But I do really admire how sneaky she is. I couldn’t be that subtle if I tried. Not every situation calls for in-your-face honesty and a commanding, desirable presence. I’d like to have that other mode she has, where she persuades you into action before you even realize what is happening.”

“But you’d still be human, Sam,” Bucky said. “You hang out with us science projects constantly, not to mention a god and some seriously freaky powered people. Don’t you want a longer life and to enjoy your dessert once in awhile?” Sam shrugged.

“I’m used to the drawbacks of the whole humanity situation. You have something there: it’s easier to accept the negatives if you’re used to them. Steve?” “I’d be Thor!” Bucky started giggling while Sam just rolled his eyes. “What, did I say that too fast?” Bucky’s giggle progressed to full-on belly laughs and he had to stop walking, which made the other two stop and watch him. He leaned over, resting his hands on his thighs, enjoying the growing ache in his belly as Steve asked, “Why is that so funny?”

“You… got bigger… not big enough… need to be bigger, blonder, and live forever…” Bucky could barely grind out the words, he was laughing so hard. Sam was starting to laugh with him now too, even if that didn’t explain anything. When Bucky finally wound down, Steve was looking a little bashful, which was always a cute look on him. “If you could be anyone, Steve, you’d be what you are, on a bigger scale. When you could be anyone, including a normal person again. You don’t see the arrogance in that?” Steve shrugged.

“It’s not a crime to like who you are, Bucky,” he said as he started walking again. “Besides, Thor can fly. And throwing the shield is fun but throwing the hammer’s got to be something else.”

“Of course, Steve. I was just picturing the little guy you used to be, picking fights with movie theater bullies… and now you’re Captain America, ready to go against the whole world… I’d just hate to see what you’d get us into if you were a semi-divine being able to travel the nine realms.” Sam’s steps faltered a bit at that.

“Suddenly I’m understanding Thor a bit better,” Sam murmured. “He has more restraint than I’ve given him credit for.” Steve just shook his head, but Bucky could almost see his thoughts churning… wondering how many intergalactic bullies were out there somewhere.

Sam was less sanguine about desert reptiles when they came upon rattlesnakes enjoying the early morning sun the next day.

 

 

He forgot whatever he was saying about basketball (Bucky wasn’t even listening) and took a wide path around them. “Look at how they’re coiling up!” he said. “Chill out snakes, we’re leaving.” The sound of the rattle cut through the air. Sam shivered, backing away from them like he expected them to chase him. 

“They can sense vibrations through the ground,” Steve said. “They’ll settle as we move away; don’t worry.”

Even rattlesnakes provided a more comfortable diversion than when they woke to storm clouds rolling in, eight days into the trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't remember the time Steve Rogers got abducted by aliens? Read the story here:
> 
>  
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/4415231


	6. FOUR

The rain provided a reprieve from the heat if not from the monotony of hiking and more hiking. Sam had made a pretty good effort to convince Steve to take the day off, but was ultimately unsuccessful.

“I’m not sure how many more days we’re going to get out here before we’re recalled,” Steve said. “Anyway, even if we go into town, there’s not much to do there anyway.”

“We could get some more pumpkin chocolate chip cookies,” Bucky suggested helpfully, trying to leverage Steve’s sweet tooth against him. When the pies were gone, Steve had dug cookies out of a hiding spot in the truck. It was weird to eat pumpkin treats in March, but that was Utah. And they were delicious. Even Sam had eaten his share, mumbling something about vitamin A. 

“I’ve got one more package stashed away,” Steve smiled. “Sorry boys, we march. I know you packed your rain gear.”

As the day wore on and the rain soaked deeper into the soil, the desert slowly came alive. Bucky first noticed the scent, which was similar to the damp smell of the river by their campsite. But this was brighter, tangier, and fresher. 

“Petrichor,” Steve said, when Bucky remarked on it. “The long dry spells here make it stronger than in other environments. Smells pretty great, doesn’t it?”

Gradually the vegetation around them turned greener, and the soil crusts shifted in color from a variety of browns to green, orange, and even inky black. Toads and insects began to sing. 

They found a little rocky overhang to sit under when they took their lunch break. It was just barely big enough for the three of them to sit side by side, munching and watching the rain fall. Watching the land change as it slowly absorbed more water was a good diversion for a bit, but eventually the rain began to wear on them. The rising humidity made the air thick, and combined with their rain gear, prevented their sweat from evaporating. The feel of damp clothes under rain gear made Bucky miss the dust, and hot spots on his feet started to grow into blisters inside his spare set of socks. He began to count his paces, trying to figure out how much longer they had left today. He figured they were in the middle of the last mile when the Geiger counter began to click more rapidly. He stopped and looked at Steve, who stuck a wooden stake into the dust.

“Finish the transect, guys, we don’t know if that’s what we’re looking for or not. Lots of radiation sources out here.” They continued in their line, and Steve made sure to add another stake when the rapid clicks died off again. Bucky had just spotted this second stake on their way back through when the clicking sped up again. “Okay,” Steve said, adding another stake at his position, “We’ll home in on the source unless it gets too hot. Keep your eyes open.” 

It was Sam who spotted it several minutes later, vaguely spherical as advertised, also vaguely greenish. The crater around it was a pretty good giveaway that this was what they were looking for. Steve took some readings, including the GPS location, and they headed back to camp.

The rain tapered off just as they got back, of course.

“It’ll be dark soon,” Steve said. “Let’s pack up in the morning.” Fresh clothes were not as good as a hot shower, but they all seemed to share the same reluctance to leave now that their mission was completed. They ate all the cookies and stayed up late by the campfire, finishing the scotch as well.

“Okay, okay,” Steve said. “But Bucky, I want to know what’s going on with you and Natasha!”

“There’s nothing to tell,” he tried to brush it off, but Steve wouldn’t let it go.

“Come on man, you guys have been spending a lot of time together lately. Spill.”

“Yes, she’s a good person to talk to. She knows more about the types of training and conditioning I was exposed to with Hydra than anyone, and she doesn’t make horrified faces when I talk about them-- No, it’s okay, Steve,” Bucky continued as he tried to interrupt. “Of course that stuff upsets you. That’s why it’s good that I have more than one person I can rely on for support.”

“Its not just that, though,” Sam says. “You know there’s no secrets at Avengers HQ. Everyone assumes your trips into the city are dates.” Bucky coughed.

“I don’t know. I like her, and I’ve asked her on some of those trips,” he said. “But after what happened with Banner, I don’t think she’s ready yet for, you know--”

“Smooches?” Steve asked, batting his eyelids. Bucky laughed at him.

“Or something serious with another ‘coworker’? So, we’ll see,” Bucky shrugged. “Anyway, speaking of secrets, Sam, things between you and Maria are pretty hot and heavy, huh?” Sam coughed and sputtered on his scotch as Steve made a surprised sound. Once Sam got a breath in he swore.

“Goddamnit, Barnes, you’re as sneaky as Natasha and as observant as Clint,” he said. “I swore no one knew about that…”

“Well, nobody told me!” Steve said, looking a little put out.

“You said it, man, you aren't sneaky. Clint knows too,” Bucky said. “But I think that’s it.”

"But Maria is! If Clint knows then Natasha knows,” Sam groaned. “Which means Fury knows, and that explains something he said to me last time I saw him. Shit. Yeah, it started as one of those after-mission hook up things? About six months ago, when I got injured and she had to save my dumb ass? And I don’t think either of us were sure it was serious, so we kept it on the DL. Or tried too, at any rate.”

“But it’s not just a hook up thing?” Steve asked.

“No. Maybe. No. I don’t know, man, we’ve not exactly had the talk. How about you, Rogers? You’ve been going into the city overnight pretty regularly, and alone on your bike. Someone special down there, in Hell’s Kitchen maybe?”

“I plead the fifth,” Steve said, grinning.

“That’s exactly like you, man. You expect to know everyone else’s secrets but have to keep your own. Fine, fine. I’ll see if I can figure it out without you telling me.”

“Good,” said Steve. “Your covert movements in urban environments can use some work anyway. Try and follow me; maybe it’ll help.” he smiled, and Bucky started to laugh.

“Oh, that’s how it is?”

“That’s how it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The desert really does smell extra good when it rains. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petrichor
> 
> Pumpkin chocolate chip cookies are seriously delicious. If you can't get to a Harmon's for them, consider making your own. http://www.ksl.com/?nid=1105&sid=32321854


	7. Epilogue

In the morning they packed the truck without making breakfast and spent the entire ride to St. George making bets on who was going to eat more at brunch. After quick showers at a hotel, they found a suitable looking diner. 

Steve ate the most, of course, polishing off two lumberjack breakfasts and a slice of pie for good measure. Sam even had a donut with his fruit, oatmeal and soft boiled eggs. Steve couldn’t help but tease him.

“Sixty four miles of transects in the desert, man. That’s your idea of a good time. I earned that damn donut.”

“I guess so,” Steve said. “Since I ate the most and won the bet, you also earned the chance to pay the bill. I gotta go report the find. It’s gonna take a bit to get a secure line.” He left them there, and headed into the parking lot.

“Is-is he on a payphone?” Bucky asked incredulously. “That’s secure? I didn’t even know they still had phone booths.” Sam peered through the blinds on the window.

“It’s probably a S.H.I.E.L.D. gizmo in disguise,” Sam said. “I can’t remember the last time I saw one, but this is the sort of thing they wouldn’t want reported via cell.” They sipped coffee until Steve finally finished.

“Okay boys, we got a flight out of Nellis tonight. Well, two flights. Sam, apparently there will be a mission briefing waiting for you.”

“But not until tonight, right?” Sam asked. “Vegas is only two hours away, plus we gain an hour on the way. I say we go play a little blackjack and then decimate a buffet.” Steve groaned, cringing a little. “What? What did I say?”

“Nothing, Sam. You’re money. That idea is money. Let’s go! Vegas, baby, vegas! Yeah!” Bucky said, trying his best not to laugh. He lost the battle and collapsed into giggles when Steve covered his face with his hands and started to tell Sam about one of the worst mistakes he ever made: marathoning Vince Vaughn movies with Bucky over a long weekend.

“I mean, I kind of see why the movies are funny,” Steve said. “But most of his characters are just callous and off-putting. And vulgar. The only one I liked was Dodgeball, and this meatball can’t stop quoting Swingers, or worse, Delivery Man. I could just kill Barton for making that suggestion.”

Telling that story ended up being yet another mistake for Steve, as Sam and Bucky ended up trading lines from Wedding Crashers-- all the way to Vegas.


End file.
